


Forest of Gods

by SilentWoods



Category: Beyonders Series - Brandon Mull
Genre: Bear - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Falling In Love, Forrest creatures AU, Fox - Freeform, Growing Up, M/M, One Shot, Stag - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWoods/pseuds/SilentWoods
Summary: Ferrin is born as a fox kit in early spring. When his curiosity gets the better of him he wanders away from his family den and out into the forest. There he meets a fawn who quickly becomes his best friend. As the two mature they come to realize things about themselves and each other.
Relationships: Jason/Ferrin
Kudos: 1





	Forest of Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little one-shot that's been tumbling around in my mind for what feels like forever. It isn't betad so please excuse the mistakes. As always, comments are appreciated.

The air was sweet with the scent of flower blossoms and ripening fruit when the last fox kit was born. He was small but beautiful with his bright ginger fur, pure white markings, and black stocking feet. The first month of his life was spent in the den with the rest of the litter. The majority of their time was spent sleeping, but when they weren’t the eight of them played. He wrestled with his older, larger siblings and wondered what was beyond the mouth of the den just as much as the others. They were 20 days old when he became the first to venture near that bright opening. He managed to climb up the sloping tunnel almost to the point where he could see out before their mother came back and promptly drug him back down into the den proper. They had all received a lecture afterward that had left them with flattened ears, heads hung, and tails tightly wrapped around their bodies. Finally, when the first month had passed their mother allowed them up the sloping tunnel and out of the den’s mouth. 

The day their mother gave them permission to leave the den, the smallest kit was trampled in his older sisters’ excitement to view the world. He was left behind in the dark earthen world they had lived in up until now. By the time he had picked himself up, he could hear his sisters’ excited yaps echoing down to him. Eagerly he climbed the tunnel and when he arrived at its mouth he was blown away. The world outside the den was vibrant. It filled his senses to capacity and left him gasping for more. He bounded in the lush grass surrounding his home and enjoyed the new sensation. The grass smelled sweet and bent easily under him as he and his older sisters chased each other. The eight of them played under the watchful eye of their father until their mother came back. When she did, she introduced them to meat. 

Watching his mother regurgitate a squirrel was not an appealing thing to the runt of the litter. But, when he watched his older siblings dive in, fighting over strips of meat, he decided it couldn’t be that bad and began fighting his way toward the front. By the time he muscled his way through the larger bodies, there was barely a scrap of meat left. With a quickness born from being the smallest and weakest of the bunch, he snatched the meat from under one of his sister’s noses. She growled at him, stepping forward to rip the scrap from his mouth, but their mother grabbed her around the neck and took her off to where the rest of their sisters were. As he gnawed on the meat, he found he enjoyed the taste more than anticipated. If this is what they would be eating from now on he would gladly give up milk. 

For the next week, the fox kits spent the majority of their day just outside the den under the watchful eye of a parent. They gradually began to eat more meat and by the end of the week, the litter had stopped nursing completely. 

The fox kit was getting bored of playing in the area just outside their home. He’d explored the tall grasses thoroughly. He’d climbed through the berry bushes just to the right of the den; he’d snacked on so many strawberries that his muzzle had been stained bright red and his stomach had ached for hours afterward. And he’d investigated every tree, log, and stick within view. A desire to explore more of this fascinating world ate at him, consuming his thoughts whenever he was still. 

_ Today is the day _ , he thought to himself as he climbed the tunnel to the entrance of the den. He peeked his head out. His siblings were scattered around the small clearing, a few playing in the grasses while others lounged in patches of sun. He poked his head out farther looking for his parents. His father was nowhere to be found, but his mother was sitting on top of the hill their home was dug into. Her head swiveled every few minutes as she counted her children and searched for threats. He padded out of the den. If he was going to escape he would have to do it when his mother’s attention was preoccupied. The kit wandered over to where two of his eldest sisters were wrestling. He joined in with them, biding his time. The sun was almost directly overhead when his chance came. 

He’d been lazing in the shade of a tree when he heard a group of his siblings begin yowling. Lifting his head, he watched as their mother hopped off of her perch to go investigate the source of his sisters’ discontent. The moment his mother’s back was too him, the kit took off. He bounded through the brush as fast as his little legs could take him. He ran until he was sure he was a safe distance from the den and his mother’s watchful eyes. 

_ There _ he thought.  _ I should have some time to explore before anyone notices I’m gone. _ The fox kit weaved his way through the trees, investigating the strange new smells and sights. He found a plant that grew in the V of two roots that smelled like fresh earth. Its stalk was thick and pale, as was the domed top. He batted at it, breaking the stem. The underside was as unappetizing as the top. He could see beetles crawling in the folds of the domed top, wriggling away from the unprotected air. Losing interest in the plant, the fox kit trotted away. 

He bounded up the broken half of a tree. The wood was rough under his paws, giving him the needed traction to make it up the steep climb. At the top where the trunk had snapped in half jagged juts of wood were revealed. Black insects crawled over the splintered inside, disappearing inside holes, marching in lines, sitting, waiting for something. It didn’t take long for the young fox’s attention to wander. 

He looked around. From this high up he could see a fair distance in any direction. Moss blanketed the roots of the trees and boulders around him, but from this high up he was able to see a thin path that wended its way through the trees. Scrambling down the trunk he found the path again and took off down it. The path meandered through the trees, rounding boulders and thick tree trunks, leading him towards the sound of running water. 

As he bounded down a gentle slope he was greeted with a small waterfall that rushed over two large boulders that sat upon a staircase of thin shelves of rock, their edges worn smooth by the constant pounding of the water. When the water reached the bottom of the rocks it continued through the forest in a clear stream. 

Crouching at the edge of the stream the fox kit sniffed at the water. He’d never seen anything like this before. It didn’t have a smell. This perplexed the kit greatly. Everything he’d encountered so far had had a smell, so the great mystery here was why this substance didn’t? He sniffed at it again before reaching a paw out slowly over the rushing water. With a quick swat, the kit smacked his paw against the surface of the water before darting away from the edge of the stream. Hunching down behind a fallen branch he peeked around it to watch the water. When nothing happened, the fox kit came out from behind the branch and approached the stream once more. This time as he sat at the edge of the water he bent his head to the surface and tentatively lapped some of it up. Finding nothing but relief for a thirst he hadn’t noticed before now, the fox kit kept drinking. 

When he’d had his fill, the fox kit wandered over to the waterfall. The water gushed down the stone steps, swift enough to dislodge a leaf from where it was plastered to a rock. He sat at the edge staring across the stream to the trees and beyond. Curiosity still not abated, the kit found a step that was large. The water was slower here. Gingerly placing a paw in the water, he began to inch his way across the stream. The rock was smooth under his feet and free of moss, making it easy to cross the step without losing his footing. Shaking the water off of each paw as he climbed back up onto the grass, the fox kit continued on. 

Just inside the trees on the opposite side of the stream, the fox kit’s attention was captured by a large blue and black butterfly resting on a tree. As he drew closer to that particular tree, the butterfly took flight. It flit through the air in an unhurried pace giving the kit time to catch up and follow. The two drew deeper into the forest leaving the sounds of the waterfall behind them. Down the path they went, the butterfly going from tree to tree and the fox kit trailing after it, never taking his eyes off it, interested to see where it would lead him. The path changed from dirt and short grass to tall, sweet grass suddenly, but the kit’s attention was stuck on the butterfly which now flew directly above him. 

It teased him, getting close enough that he could feel the wind made from its large wings before it lifted itself higher. Sitting in the sweet grass he watched the butterfly, enjoying the smells around him and the way the sun’s rays shone down on him. Finally, the butterfly decided to land on the tip of his nose. Resting as it languidly opened and closed its wings, the butterfly crawled from the tip of the kit’s nose to rest more securely on his muzzle. Suddenly the butterfly was gone and the fox kit’s sight was filled with another’s face. 

With their noses touching the two stared at each other. The newcomer had blond fur with black around its nose and an even lighter color ringing its eyes. Their eyes were dark brown to the point of almost black and glassy, with long thick lashes framing them. Pulling back a little he could see long spindly legs and white spots along their back and sides. Cocking his head to the side the fox kit let out a questioning yip. His tail thumping against the soft grass. With a jerky jump, the fawn invited the fox kit to play. 

Under the watchful eye of a herd of deer, the two chased each other around the meadow, hiding behind the tall grasses and flowers before jumping out and continuing the game. They left trails of flattened grass as they pranced after the plentiful butterflies around them, which seemed content to indulge them in play. When they grew tired the two of them rested under the shade of a large oak tree on the banks of a small pond where the stream from the waterfall emptied. When at last the brilliant blue sky became streaked with oranges and reds the two parted ways. Both making the unspoken promise to play again soon. 

The fox kit bounded away from the meadow retracing his steps back to the stream, then the fallen tree, and finally to the den. As he emerged from the trees he was snatched up immediately by his father. Anger poured off his parents as he was dropped roughly in front of his mother. His father moved to sit next to her. With his head hung and his ears laid flat against his head, the kit took the harsh berating from his mother and father. When they’d finished, he was carried by the scruff of his neck down into the den proper where he was forced to stay for the rest of the day. 

For two days he was under strict watch. If he strayed near the edge of where the others were allowed a sharp bark and a growl sent him scurrying back towards his sisters. But, he wanted to see his new friend again. So, on the third day when all his sisters were together in the grass, he joined them. At first, he laid there unassuming. Bathing in the sun with the others. Then, gradually, he began to annoy them. He kicked the youngest sister in the head, earning him an annoyed growl and a nip on the haunch. When she’d settled down again he looked over to the two who were dozing to his right. He bit one as he smacked the other with his paw. Both started awake. Both equally furious. They returned the favor by tackling him. They bit at his neck and belly, growling their anger. As the three of them writhed in the center of the pile, the kit saw his chance to anger the others into joining. Rabbiting his feet against the youngest sister and whoever sunbathed beside her, he elicited pained yelps, but because the three of them were already wriggling together the two could not tell who had kicked them. But, the pain could not go unpunished, so the two joined in. Snapping at whoever they could, deciding everyone would feel their wrath equally. Now that there were five of them attacking each other, limbs flying, teeth gnashing, yowls sounding, the other three had no choice but to join in or get trapped beneath the others. 

Rolling onto his stomach, the kit began shimmying towards the edge of the pile. He nipped at a foot that blocked his path. The foot lifted, the owner too preoccupied with whichever sister had deemed it necessary to clamp down on her ear. He knew his parents would be coming over soon to break them up. His window of escape would close the moment they arrived to pull them apart. With one last heaving scrabble, he managed to escape the mass of teeth and fur that was his seven older sisters. Peeking his head up over the pile he could see his mother with a resigned look on her face coming over to see what was going on. Staying low to the ground he streaked across the grass and disappeared into the trees. 

The kit crept through the undergrowth, pausing every so often to listen for sounds of an irate parent coming to get him. When he’d gone a good distance without hearing any pursuit, he was sure he was in the clear. He took off as fast as his legs could carry him. Racing towards where he remembered the fallen tree. He streaked past it, weaving with ease through the boulders and trees. When he came across the waterfall he slowed. Taking his time he navigated through the rushing water on the widest shelf. The moment all feet were back on the ground he started running again. 

Sweet smelling grass parted easily for the kit as he weaved over to the herd of deer grazing on the far side of the meadow. He waited patiently at the edge of where the grass had been chopped down for the fawn to notice him. While the older deer had never come after the kit, he was still wary of their presence and size. When the fawn saw him sitting in the grass it let out a jovial bleat, jumping excitedly as he raced over to the fox. 

Taking off into the grass they resumed their game of tag. Darting in tight turns, sprinting with all they had, and pouncing out of nowhere the two made the game more challenging. When both were in need of a break they wandered over to the shade of the oak trees near the pond. The two dipped their heads to the pond, lapping up the freezing water eagerly. 

The kit lifted his head from the water and looked around. He was hungry. Glancing over the bushes that grew between the trees he noticed one heavy with dark purple berries. Moving over to the bush, he sniffed at one of the clusters, then tentatively pulled one from the bunch to eat. It was sweet and filled with a pleasant tasting juice. This was enough for the kit to trust the berries. He yipped at the fawn letting him know he’d found food before going back to eating. Soon he was joined by the fawn. The two of them stripped the bottom of the bush clean of berries. Each eating until their stomachs were uncomfortably full and a sleepy haze had settled over the pair. The fox trotted around the wall of bushes and tree trunks until he came to a sun-warmed spot. Plopping down in the grass, he let loose a wide yawn before curling up for a nap. A shadow fell across him before he felt a small body curl up next to him. Raising his head he looked back at the fawn. The two touched noses gently. The kit got up, turning in a few tight circles, before curling up snugly against the fawn’s side. 

As the days began to melt together, spring tumbled full force into summer. The fox kit kept sneaking off, much to his parents' alarm and dismay, but as the litter grew and they began learning how to hunt for themselves, his parents seemed less worried about him leaving. He’d grown over the months, though he was still the smallest of the litter. His tail, which had been thin and dull, was now a thick beautiful ginger with a snow-white tip. He enjoyed swishing it, seeing the jealous looks his sisters gave him as they saw how it caught the sun. 

The fawn had matured too. Once spindly legs had lengthened and strengthened. The pale spots that had dotted his back had faded as if bleached by the sun out of existence. He’d also finally begun to grow into his ears. They had seemed overly large on the small body like someone had stuck two gigantic leaves to his head. He now towered over the fox, having to bend a great distance to greet his smaller friend. 

The sky began darkening each day, filling with thick grey clouds that hung heavy with snow. The wind, which was once warm and gentle, was now sharp and aggressive. It tore leaves from the trees, leaving them bare and unprotected. As the season changed the fox became more and more independent until he rarely relied on his parents for food. When the first snow fell, he felt the urge to begin looking for his own home. 

The fox was standing on the fallen tree surveying the snow blanketed area he was beginning to think of as his when he saw the stag picking his way through the underbrush. Letting out a series of excited yaps, he raced down the log toward his friend. When he reached the stag he sat, smiling up at him, tail thumping on the ground happily. Stretching his nose upward as his friend bent his head down, the two of them greeted each other warmly. 

Nuzzling his nose against the side of the fox’s head and neck tenderly, the stag huffing plumes of hot breath into the fox’s fur Raising his head, he jerked his chin over his shoulder then turned back the way he came leaving the fox to trot along after him. His stilt-like legs afforded him speed in the deep snow, but, conscious of his small friend’s struggle, he slowed his pace considerably. Meandering his way through the drifts, the stag led the fox toward the meadow. The now barren area free of the tall, sweet-smelling grasses was cut through with clear trails. Once they’d reached its edge the stag picked up the pace, following the premade paths. They meandered towards the pond. 

The pond, once clear as a crystal, was now a frosted glass surface. Just below the thin layer of ice, shocking white bubbles sat frozen in the electric blue of the water. The fox sniffed at the frozen pond then looked up at his friend, waiting for a clue as to what they were doing. Tentatively, the stag stepped out on the ice. The fox watched, head cocked slightly, as the stag tottered, hooves slipping and sliding before he found his balance and pushed off from the bank with his hind leg. The stag went skating over the surface of the pond. He pushed off against the ice with his back hooves only when he had begun to slow. When he’d reached the far side of the pond he jumped off the ice into a snowbank. Looking over at the fox, he called out encouragingly. 

Sniffing at the ice once more, the fox extended a paw out to the glass-like surface. He pressed down, moving his paw to other spots when he felt it slip. Following the stag’s lead, he placed all but one paw on the ice. When he’d found his balance once more, he gave a weak push with the foot still on the shore. He slid uncontrollably out into the center of the pond. Legs shaking and splayed he looked to the stag, a whine growing in the back of his throat as his ears pressed flat to his skull. The stag grunted out support, miming how to get back up and keep moving on the ice. With shaky movements the fox copied him. It took longer than the fox would have liked to find his balance again. His claws dug into the ice, leaving thin scratches as he positioned his feet. Once he was back on his feet he pushed off like he’d seen the stag do and soon found himself on the opposite bank.

Jumping off the ice and into the snow. Shaking himself of the feeling of being on the ice, he sat himself firmly on the ground. The stag bent his head and pressed his nose against the side of the fox’s head apologetically. Bending his head even further he nudged his friend closer to the ice. The fox planted his feet and growled at the stage, but when the stage didn’t relent he reluctantly went where he was guided. 

The stag stepped out onto the ice again. When he’d found his balance he looked back at the fox and motioned for him to follow. With tentative steps, he walked out onto the ice, blunted claws digging into the cold surface. The stag began skating towards the fox. When he reached him, he gently nudged him with his cold muzzle. 

Legs shaking violently the fox slid over the ice slowly. His movements jerky and barely controlled as they made their way around the perimeter of the pond. As they made their second lap around the pond, the fox found himself with better balance and that he had stopped digging his claws into the ice as much. They made a third, then a fourth lap. Each time the fox became more comfortable, more confident, on the ice. As they completed their fifth lap, the fox decided he’d had enough of skirting the outside of the pond. He skated out into the center. Building up speed he dug his claws into the ice once he’d gone far enough and swung around to face the stag. His tail happily wagging behind him.

The stag approached at a much more subdued pace. Now that the two of them were comfortable on the ice they chased each other much like they did when they’d played in the meadow earlier that year. When the day grew long and the night began to overtake the sky, the two left the ice. 

Lowering himself onto his knees the stag invited the fox to climb onto his back. He gave the fox plenty of time to get comfortable and positioned before he stood and stilleted his way through the tall snowdrifts. As he waded easily through the tall mounds of snow he was glad he’d had the fox on his back instead of struggling through the snow behind him. He covered ground quickly and when he reached the area where the fallen tree was he stilled and allowed the fox to jump off his back. 

Plummeting through the thick snow, the fox shook himself of the stray flakes that stuck to his fur. Looking up at the stag, he let out a soft whine. Bending his head, the stag pushed his muzzle into the side of the fox’s neck and head. He nuzzled roughly into the soft fur and in turn, was nuzzled back just as hard. When the two pulled apart, the fox lifted himself up just enough to touch their noses together before sinking back to the ground, a low whine following him. 

The two stared at each other. They both knew this would be the last time they would be together while the ground was still covered with snow. The stag couldn’t survive on the meager food found here in the winter, and while both knew winter wouldn’t last forever, neither knew when it would end. Lowering his head the stag met the fox in a loving nuzzle. They pressed their faces into the side of the other’s neck. The two remained in that position until they both grew cold and a creeping numbness began to crawl up their limbs. 

Pulling away first, the stag bumped his nose against the fox’s one last time before rising to his full height. He turned gracefully in the deep snow and began his journey back to his herd. The fox watched him until the snowfall and the trees swallowed him from view. 

Months passed and slipped by. The winter became colder, the snow harder packed and thicker. Prey now hid beneath the crusted white surface, forcing the fox to learn new ways to find food. When the weather became too much, he retreated to his den and slept as much as he could through the worst of it. When it seemed the snow and bone-deep chills would never abate, the weather began to lessen. The clouds started to flee from the sky. With the sky clear the sun was free to melt the snow, leaving the rivers and streams to swell. It wasn’t long after that the trees grew green buds and grass sprouted again. 

The fox was out and about searching his territory for food. It had been some time since he’d had a decent meal. Snuffling along the ground he picked up a promising scent. He followed it. Chasing the scent through the new growth, over the frost covered ground, around the piles of snow that still lingered. It led him to a shallow burrow. He began digging. He could smell the family in the burrow. Smell the myriad of scents. His claws racked at the hard dirt, loosening it and moving it away from his path. The moment he broke through the ceiling of the burrow he heard the panicked screams of the prey inside, but he paid it no mind. He saw movement to his right and snapped at it. 

His fangs sank into fur and flesh with the ease of someone who was starved. Blood, hot and tangy spilled over his tongue, trickling down his throat. He shook his head, biting harder as the prey in his grasp fought. He ignored the sound of screams from what he could only assume were babies. If there was another adult in the burrow they would have fled by now. The prey went lax in his grip. He gave one more bone-breaking bite to be sure he’d killed it before setting it on the ground. 

A rabbit, light brown in color, lay at his feet. Its eyes wide and glassy. Its mouth slightly open revealing long, sharp teeth. Blood matted the fur around its neck and skin had peeled back revealing the muscle underneath. He turned his attention to the ruined burrow. Five kits writhed in the loose dirt. Each fairly large in size, but still unable to run. He made short work of them. When he’d satisfied his hunger, the fox picked up the dead rabbit then trotted back to his den. 

His den was within sight when he saw him. A tall, slender, regal stag stood near the mouth of his home, peering in. Its head adorned with impressive antlers, the fox was surprised it could get his head so close to the opening. Padding closer, the fox soon realized who had come calling. Dropping the rabbit he raced over to the stag, tail wagging so hard the back half of his body rocked with it. He barked with excitement as the stag lifted his head away from the den. The fox pranced around in front of the stag, overjoyed at seeing his friend again after the harsh winter. The stag, equally joyous, lowered his head and began lavishing the fox with licks. 

The two spent time reacquainting themselves after such a long time apart. The fox presented his fresh kill to the stag, eager for praise on his hunting prowess. The stag was impressed the fox had caught such a wary creature unawares and showered him with praise. After the fox had stashed his dinner in his home, the two of them went for a walk. 

They strolled through the trees, meandering as the stream nearby did. Having no particular destination in mind, when they came across a patch of stone warmed by the sun beating through the trees, the two decided to lay awhile and savor its warmth. Enjoying each other’s company for the remainder of the day. Days flew by in this manner. Each one spent together doing whatever they willed. Soon the flowers were in full bloom and the scent of heat was in the air. 

The stag met the fox at his den early in the morning when none but the birds were awake and frost still spiraled out like vines over the ground. The two found that they loved this time of day. When the sun wasn’t fully up and they could watch the world become bathed in its golden glow. Padding along a well-known trail, the two made their way up to the exposed stone like they did every day to sit together as they watched the sunrise. They lay together, sides pressed tight, as they watched the sun peek over the horizon and listened to the mating calls of the forest. The stag looked down at the fox, white-tipped ginger tail wrapped around his feet, then lowered his head to gently press it against the fox. The fox leaned into the touch, all too happy to indulge in the affection being given. When the sun had risen and the two had warmed themselves to their hearts’ content, they left the golden patch of sunlight in search of breakfast. 

Down by the edge of the swollen stream plenty of sweet grasses and berries grew. The stag grazed languidly on the new grass while the fox rooted around in the soft soil for insects. As they ate they didn’t notice the small herd of does approaching. 

The herd consisted of about six does and three fawns. They milled about at the water’s edge just down the stream before a few of the does began to creep towards them. The fox paid them no mind, happy to eat the blackberries that had fallen to the ground. He wandered near the tall grasses the stag was munching down to a reasonable height. Sniffing through the grass he found a pile of berries. Delighted, he began eating them, savoring each sweet burst of flavor. 

The stag lifted his head as the does approached. He watched them curiously. They fanned out around the stag, not noticing the fox in the taller grasses. The stag watched as the fawn-less does walked towards him, ears flicking forward. They snuffled at him, trying to rub their heads against his neck to show him that they were interested in him. He took a few steps back, not used to the intrusion of his personal space. He turned, moving away from the herd to a less populated space. As the does followed so too did the fawns. 

The fox finished eating the pile of berries he’d found, licking his chops of the juices. Padding out of the long grasses he emerged near the herd of deer. A fawn nearby snuffling around the grass and berries caught sight of him first. Startled, the fawn let loose a terrified bleat before darting towards its mother. Before the fox had a chance to move the doe closest to him kicked out. A set of heavy hooves connected with the fox’s side, sending him stumbling back with a sharp cry of pain. 

His side in agony, the fox ran as fast as he could from the herd. He dared not look back as he darted through the trees and underbrush. Only when his shoulder gave out did he stop. Limping, the fox crawled under a bush before laying on the ground gingerly. It was only then that he checked his wounded side. He brushed over the fur with his tongue, finding nothing out of the ordinary there. But when he moved his leg his muscles felt as though they were tearing and his bones ached from their very core. With a pained whine, he lay his head down in the dirt, stared out at the forest before him, and prayed the herd hadn’t followed him. 

Some time had passed when the fox heard bushes rustling, twigs bending and snapping under something’s weight. Lifting his head, his ears flicked forward as he looked out from between the leaves for the creature making the noise. A soft inquiring bleat rang out as the creature came closer. The fox stayed silent. 

With ears flattened against his head, the fox prepared himself to dart away at the first sign of danger. The bleats continued as the animal walked. When it finally came into view, the fox relaxed. Letting out a bark to draw the stag’s attention he moved closer to the opening in the bush. His movements were stiff with the tenderness that came with new wounds, but he managed to get the upper half of his body out from under the bush. 

Immediately, the stag lowered himself to the ground. His large body created a barrier between the fox and the rest of the forest. The fox noticed the fur around the stag’s mouth was smattered with blood though the rest of him seemed fine. He could only guess why that was and why the stag wasn’t off with the herd of eligible mates. The stag gave him an affectionate lick before nosing gently at the injured shoulder. 

The fox lay there as the stag looked him over. He was glad to have someone with him while he was too injured to make the trip back to his den. The two spent days at the bush. The stag only left his side to bring him branches of berries. The rest of the time they lay next to each other dozing in the shade. When finally the fox had enough strength to make his way back to his home, the stag stayed with him every step of the way. They stopped by the stream when the heat of the day became too much. The fox waded out into the slower, shallower parts while the stag wallowed in the deeper areas. It took the two a full day to reach the fox’s den. A trip that normally was much, much shorter. 

It took another few weeks before the fox was back to full health and in that time the stag never left him. It wasn’t unusual for the stag to leave at night to go roam or find a place to sleep, but since the fox had been hurt he had taken to sleeping right outside the den’s entrance near the tangle of bushes and ivy that grew on a not quite fallen dead tree. 

As the days grew shorter the fox found himself preparing to see the stag off for the colder season. He could smell the frost in the air and knew that combined with the shortening days the snows were coming. He kept waiting. Waiting for that day when the stag would be overly affectionate. A signal that he was leaving that night or the next morning. But that day never came. 

Winds picked up. The temperature dropped. The stream began to slow and clog with ice. But still, the stag stayed. 

The fox woke up warm in his den to weak sunlight filtering through the bare branches of the trees. He stretched, ridding his muscles of sleep then left his den. The air outside smelled sharp, the frigidness stinging his nose as he took deep lungfuls. The ground was covered in thick layers of snow. They would grow thicker as they entered the end of the winter season. As he left the warmth of his home to find the stag he had to crawl over the newest layer of powder. It crumbled and packed tightly beneath his paws. The stag was still curled up asleep when the fox approached. A fresh layer of last night’s snow covered him in a white blanket. The bramble where he slept taking the brunt of the snowfall. 

The stag lifted his large head from where it rested on the forest floor and swung it around to meet the fox as he came near. The two touched noses in their normal morning greeting. Standing, the stag shook himself free of the snow and took a moment to stretch. 

The two roamed their usual shared territory. When they came across a stand of coniferous trees the stag stopped to eat the needles, leaving the fox continued to search for his breakfast. He stealthed his way through the trees, keeping all his senses open. He was coming near to the edge of his territory when he smelled something distinctly non-prey. After remarking his territory’s border, he followed it. 

The scent led him farther into his domain. The deeper he went the angrier he became. This was his home. He had made sure the edges were clearly marked. Why would they take the risk of trespassing this far into it? The scent led him towards a large clearing. It was similar to the one he’d met the stag in but there was no water nearby and dotted with irregular hills. Tracks became clearly visible as he stepped out of the shelter of the trees. 

The fox scanned the clearing looking for the intruder. A flash of orange disappearing over the crest of a hill caught his eye. He took off after it. As he reached the top of the hill he got a full view of the intruder. A fox, colored much like himself, was racing along the top of the snow in a staccato fashion. He watched as they darted forward then stopped, ears twitching and head tilted, before taking off again. He watched as they took a running leap, diving into the snow. 

With the rival fox distracted the fox took off down the hill toward it. As he approached, the rival fox popped out of the snow, dead mouse hanging limp in its jaws. He watched as they realized what was about to happen. Saw the emotions flash across their face as their mind raced to figure out the best possible course of action. They knew they’d been caught in someone else’s territory. They knew the price for their folly would be high. So, they darted. 

The rival fox sprinted towards the fox, trying to catch him off guard by running at him instead of away. The fox, used to the stag doing this exact thing, turned on a dime and lunged as the other tried to sweep past him. 

Sharp fangs bit into the fox’s scruff, throwing them both off balance. They tumbled into the snow, a writhing ginger ball of snapping teeth and gekkering. The mouse lay forgotten feet from the tussle. They rolled down the short hill, breaking apart as they hit the bottom. The two postured, gekkering loudly, ears pressed flat against their heads and hackles raised. 

They lunged, snapping at each other. The fox, who was just a little bit bigger than the intruder, managed to clamp his jaws around the other’s throat, throwing them supine onto the ground. He thrashed his head, being careful to avoid the other’s scraping claws against his soft underbelly. It was only when the other stopped fighting and did nothing more than let out a pitiful whine that he let them up. 

The smaller fox flipped onto their feet, running away with their tail tucked between their legs. The fox didn’t follow, sure that he’d ran them out of his territory. When they’d disappeared into the greys and greens of the forest he turned from the trees. Specks of blood decorated the snow around where they had had their tussle and surrounded the dead mouse. He snapped up the mouse and trotted back off towards where the stag was. 

It was a week later when the fox came upon his intruder again. This time they sat at the edge of his territory near the place they’d last entered. In their jaw hung a limp blackbird. He sat opposite them, waiting for them to make a move. The stag was nearby, weaving between the trees eating bark and any frozen, shriveled berries that were still clinging onto barren branches.

The other fox walked to one of the trees between them that marked the edge of the territories and set the bird down. The fox padded forward, the snow crunching with each step. He sniffed at the bird, eyes still turned up to watch the other fox. A chilled wind blew through the trees, ruffling both the fox’s thick fur and bringing the scent of the other fox to him. Now that they weren’t locked in a fight, the fox realized that the other was a vixen, close to heat and looking for a mate. He gave the bird another sniff, tempted to take it, before deciding not to. He returned to the stag, ignoring the perplexed call of the vixen on the other side of the trees. 

She kept coming back. Bringing him gifts of food and calling to him from the edge of his territory. He ignored her largely, knowing that if he took her offered gifts of food he would be entering into a relationship that would lead him away from the stag. He had no intention of doing such a thing. 

As the two traveled through the territory the vixen’s eerie cries followed them. They only ever got quieter when they went deeper into the forest. Each day the winds held less bite and grew less uncaring and the snow began to lessen. Mating season was beginning soon. 

The nights had warmed enough that the fox began sleeping curled up next to the stag. He pressed himself into the strong, steady bulk of the stag’s side and thumped his tail happily when the stag cleaned his head. He always nuzzled at the stag’s jaw in thanks, licking at the corner of his mouth before the two fell asleep. 

It was on one of these nights that the fox awoke to the high cry of the vixen, which wasn’t all the unusual, but what was unusual was the way it grew louder. All sleep fled from his body as he lifted his head, ears flicking around, as he tried to find where the vixen was. He stood as the cried grew even closer, piercing now in their volume. The stag had woken up too. His great head turned towards the sound. The fox’s hackles rose and his fur stood on end as the vixen came into view. 

She padded closer, head hung low, ears flat against her skull, and tail between her legs. She yipped at him, pleading clear in her voice. The fox snapped at her when she’d gotten close enough to. The vixen fell to the ground, tail thumping nervously as she looked up at him. 

The fox took a step forward, ready to chase the vixen away when he felt a nudge against his flank. He looked back at the stag. The stag nudged him backward before walking past him to approach the vixen. He watched, hackles still raised, as the stag lowered his head to sniff at the vixen. She stayed still, tail wagging with nervous energy and eyes still trained on the fox. The stag gave a soft grunt, lifted his head, and walked back to their bed. When the fox didn’t join him, he bleated quietly and huffed until the fox turned away from the vixen. 

He curled himself up against the stag’s broad side, ignoring the vixen as she crept closer to them. He watched as she touched her nose to the stag in thanks before turning in a few circles then plopping down. 

The next morning the vixen tagged along on their usual waltz through the forest. They went to their usual spot to sunbathe, curling up tight to one another. The vixen joined in too, though the fox gave her a displeased look. When the trio felt sufficiently warmed for the day’s activities they left in search of food. Now that the weather was beginning to warm their hunts were easier. Mice were more active and squirrels were willing to wake up long enough to venture to the ground to grab food from their stash. 

The fox brought his meal, a rather skinny squirrel, over to where the stag stood ripping bark off of a tree. Sitting next to the stand of trees, he tucked into his meal. He was halfway through it when the vixen came prancing over. In her mouth, she held a squirrel, this one round with fat. It was easily twice as large as his had been. The fox felt a burst of hot emotion well within his chest, spreading through his body in a simmering prickle. He wasn’t prepared for the urge to snap at the vixen. To throw her to the ground and bite at the soft flesh of her throat, to make sure she knew this was his home, his prey. Instead, he turned from her, ignoring the questioning noises she made and continued with his meal. 

It was now, that their bellies were full, the time of day when the stag and the fox would wander around looking for new exciting things to do in this cold, white world. They did just that with the vixen tagging along. 

The fox found it difficult to ignore her. She was beginning to smell like heat and he knew, deep, deep, down, that he was supposed to find that scent attractive, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. The scent made him want to run or chase her off. It wormed its way into his nose and soon became all he could smell. It didn’t help that as they roamed through the snow-covered trees the vixen had taken to rubbing herself against him. He’d snapped at her the first few times, but it didn’t deter her. Instead, the attention encouraged her. By the time the light was fading the fox could walk no more than a few feet before he was accosted by the eager vixen. 

As they bedded down that night, the fox took his usual place curled up against the stag’s side. He had no more than wrapped his tail around himself when the vixen approached. She circled twice then laid down next to him. The fox ignored her, burying his nose in the thick fur of his tail. A few moments later, the stag had fallen asleep and the fox could feel the heavy drag of unconsciousness pulling at him. The moment was shattered when the fox felt the vixen lay her head on his shoulders. With a long-suffering sigh, the fox stood up, barking at the vixen when she made to follow. He padded around the stag’s head, found a spot clear of twigs, then laid down. The vixen seemed to understand the message and stayed away from him for the rest of the night. 

The next morning, the fox woke up to the vixen sitting in front of him. At her feet was a large, plump squirrel. He looked to the meal then back up at her. She thumped her tail, whining high in the back of her throat, then nudged the squirrel closer to him. He stood, shaking himself out. Stepping over the squirrel, he walked past the vixen, leaving her to stare after him. He could find his own food. He didn’t need some interloper to feed him. 

The vixen tried again each morning to sway the fox’s affections towards her, but he would not budge and began actively avoiding her. At night she’s begun to slowly inch closer to the fox as they slept, being careful not to push her luck too much. He allowed her this small invasion of his space. The nights were cold and any extra body heat was welcomed. She tried bringing him gifts of food when she found something particularly good and had stopped rubbing herself along the fox after he snapped at her, his teeth finding purchase in her scruff. 

The fox was sitting under a snow ladened pine tree out of the worst of the wind watching a robin hop around the forest floor. The stag was farther down, stripping the bark off a tree. The vixen was nowhere in sight and the fox could almost imagine she wasn’t there. He was beginning to truly tire of her presence. She’d taken to finding affection from the stag now that it was clear the fox would give none. The thought of sharing the stag rankled the fox to no end. He couldn’t wait for the scent of heat to fall from the vixen so she could be on her way. Truthfully, he’d thought she’d leave after learning he could not be swayed to give her kits. And, perhaps, her upcoming heat had not been the only reason she sought out companionship. 

His eyes were drawn from the robin as he spotted motion further away. He watched with disdain as the vixen sauntered out of the trees with a mouse hanging from her mouth. She trotted up to the stag and presented her catch with pride. The stag looked down at the vixen before giving her an affectionate lick. Much like he did to the fox. 

The fox felt the hot, consuming licks of jealousy deep in his body well up as he watched them. He had let her stay with them, was that not enough?! Now she was taking the stag’s affections too! He found himself briefly consumed with the urge to bite the vixen. And to his horror, the stag too. The shame that swept over him dimed the violent urge. In a split second decision he got up, a tightness in his chest accompanying the toxic emotions swirling in him. He turned in the opposite direction of the two and started walking.

The sky had grown dark when his feet hurt enough to stop walking. The red hot rage had disappeared, but in its place was an unrelenting despondency. He found a place to sleep between the gnarled roots of an old tree. The hollow was filled with dead leaves which helped block the bone deep chill of the wind. Guilt ate at him through the night. 

When morning came, shame kept him from returning. He had become so used to being the center of the stag’s attention that sharing it felt wrong. He couldn’t begrudge the vixen for wanting praise, he adored the praise he received, but since she’d arrived it felt like she’d stolen all there was to give. It felt as though she was replacing him. Slowly shoving him out of the picture. The fox knew it was a stupid thought and that she would leave after her heat had concluded, but he also knew the emotions wouldn’t leave him be until she had left them.

He wandered towards the general direction of the stream. His stomach rumbled, but he couldn’t find the energy to hunt as he went. 

As he neared the stream he heard a faint, long low cry from the direction of his den. Hearing the call reignited the guilt from last night. He hadn’t bothered to let either of them know he was leaving. He’d probably worried the stag sick if the second call that sounded through the trees was anything to go by. His stomach twisted itself tight as a third call followed. He knew he had to return home. With ears flat against his head and his tail tucked between his legs he began his walk home. 

Light was waning as he came within sight of his den. He also came within the stag’s line of sight. He was overtaken within moments. The stag bleated in the fox’s face as he nipped at his neck and ears in anger. The fox dropped to the ground, whining his regret at the stag. But the stag was having none of it. He kept up his yelling, making his feelings on the fox’s actions clear with a few stomps of his large hooves to accentuate his worry and displeasure. 

The vixen sat off to the side watching the affair. She watched as the fox kept his head down but looked up at the stag with large eyes. His high pitched wines reached her ears easily, his large beautiful tail wrapping around his haunches. His whole body screamed anxiety to her. And it was as she watched the stag lay down with the fox boxed in by his legs and chest that she realized something. The fox would never be interested in her in  _ that way _ . He would never deign to mate with her, not if the way he was staring up at the stag was any indication. She felt her chest give a particular ache as she watched the two look at each other like they held the other’s world, even after the fight that had just happened. Embarrassment flooded through her at the realization that she’d wasted a season chasing after an unattainable mate. 

That night, the vixen let the two sleep together without her impending presence. 

The stag adorned the fox’s face and head in long licks. The fox pressed his face into the thick ruff of the stag’s chest and whined out apology after apology until the stag curved his neck down to tuck the fox tighter to himself. Wrapped up in each other’s warmth, they fell asleep easily. 

The day was hot, but the rolling black clouds to the east promised relief. The two decided to wander towards the far edge of the fox’s territory. They hadn’t been that way in a few seasons. They picked their way through the lush underbrush, taking their time to enjoy the scenery around them. The fox, smaller and more nimble, was able to walk ahead of the stag easily. This gave the stag an unfettered view of the fox. He couldn’t help but think him resplendent against the dark, rich greens of their surroundings. His ginger body shone in an almost ethereal way as he slunk through the leaves of low growing bushes and darted along the decaying wood of a fallen tree that lay across a small creek. After crossing the creek the two came across the sheer side of a cliff. The wall was made of nothing but hard red dirt and rocks that peeked out haphazardly from its face. A groove marred the dirt where a trickling waterfall ran down, weaving between the rocks. The two stopped to take a drink 

As they drank they heard heavy lumbering footsteps in the distance followed by a call neither had heard before. They stopped to listen, but when the sounds didn’t reappear, the two continued on. The footsteps seemed to accompany them now, always just on the edge of hearing. As they continued exploring the forgotten side of the fox’s territory they forgot all about them. 

The sun was high in the sky, beating down harshly on the canopy of leaves above them, when they stumbled across a large patch of thick, lush grass. The two decided to take a break from walking and lay in the cool grass awhile. The fox flopped down after the stag had made himself comfortable. He rolled on to his back, stretching out and closed his eyes. He felt the stag nose at the underside of his chin before giving him an affectionate lick. His tail thumped happily at the attention. A breeze swept by them bringing the scent of rain. The fox basked in the attention the stag lavished upon him. When the stag’s head was close enough he returned the intimacy. The two found it easy to forget about the strange noise they had heard in the area as they lazed in the grass, enjoying the breeze and shade. 

The two startled from the calm as they hear heavy footsteps nearby. They searched the thick, green foliage for any sign of what might be behind it. Ears flicking wildly to pick up any more noise. Standing slowly, the two began to back away. Their hearts pounded in their chests as a dark figure moved slightly in the brush. With the sound of a tree snapping in half, a large animal burst through the leaves and bushes, running straight for the two. 

They had barely enough time to register that a grizzly bear was charging them as they turned tail and ran. The two were smaller and more nimble than the bear, making it easier for them to navigate through the dense brush, but what they had in speed the grizzly made up for in strength. They could hear him crashing along behind them, losing little speed. They sprinted the length of their shared territory, hoping that the grizzly would give up, but he kept pace. 

The fox’s muscles burned and his lungs were raw with the exertion. He ran at the stag’s heel, nipping at him to go faster when his pace began to lag. It was as they began to run through thinning trees that the fox realized they weren’t going to make it. If they hadn’t been able to lose the grizzly while in the trees they never would in the meadow they were running towards. So, as they flew out into the open, the fox dug his claws into the soft earth and spun around to face the bear. If he could distract the bear just long enough for the stag to get away, then he’d do it. The wait for the grizzly to tear through the trees towards him was agony. With each crashing lope from the humongous creature, he felt his fear rise. His stomach roiled as he made out the dark form of the bear coming at him. His heartbeat so hard it hurt as he heard the stag behind him call for him. He could see the glint in the bear’s eyes now. He got ready. 

The grizzly came into the meadow leaving a path of destruction in his wake. He ran straight towards the fox. 

The fox crouched, digging his nails into the earth. When the bear was just about to overtake him, he sprinted to the right, out of its reach. Circling the grizzly he bit at its hind legs. The grizzly turned in as a wall of fur and muscle and swiped at him. Its massive paw hit the ground where the fox had been moments before. The fox circled the grizzly again. He knew he had no chance of beating the behemoth, he was far too small and his energy was beginning to flag. He darted forward before the grizzly could turn and bit at the back of his heel. He sank his teeth in and savagely shook his head. As the grizzly bear turned he let go, darting out of range once again. The grizzly let out a thunderous roar, spittle flying through the air and large, yellowed teeth put on display. 

A panicked bellow came from further into the meadow. The fox turned to look. He saw the stag charging towards them, antlers pointed down. Pain ripped through his side. Hot and sharp. His feet left the ground as he flew through the air. When he crashed to earth, he skidded and rolled, getting disorienting glimpses of the fight. 

The stag had reached them while the grizzly was focused on the fox. With the bear’s side wide open the stag saw the opportunity to attack. He slammed his antlers in the soft flesh of the grizzly, sparing no amount of force behind the assault. The grizzly let out an agonized roar. He staggered back, dislodging the antlers from between his ribs. 

The fox stumbled back to his feet, limping back to the fight. His side burned, but he found the will to ignore it as he watched the grizzly swipe at the stag. Panic coursed through him as he was helpless to watch the two face off again. The grizzly roared and the stag screamed back. His antlers bathed in dripping red. 

The stag lowered his head, brandishing the sharp ends of his antlers again. The two charged each other. They met with a thick wet sound. Both animals screamed. The stag’s antlers slipped into the grizzly’s chest and neck just as easily as they had his side. The grizzly’s claws racked down the stag’s back and sides, rendering flesh from the body. 

The two struggled against each other. The stag’s body strained to force as many prongs into the grizzly before his strength gave way. Both the fox and the stag knew it was over when the grizzly dug his claws into the stag’s side and  _ ripped _ . 

A scream the likes of which the fox had never heard before tore its way from the stag. He dropped to his knees as his legs shook, then gave out. The grizzly huffed great breaths as he stumbled back off the antlers. His fur was matted with blood. It oozed and rolled out of the puncture wounds. The grizzly stood with labored breathing above the stag. In the blink of an eye the grizzly was back on the stag. He threw the whole weight of his body behind his jump. 

The fox watched in horror as the stag’s back caved in under the weight. He watched as bones broke through the ruined skin of his sides. How the stag’s eyes bulged from the pain and pressure. The grizzly tore into his neck, ripping the front of it out with a vicious tug. 

It was watching the stag fall fully to the ground with blood pouring out of his body that spurred the fox into action again. 

He knew he couldn’t do anything against the grizzly. Not if the stag had fallen to him. But the rage and agony of helplessly watching his best friend die before his eyes ignited the final amount of resolve he had. The fox ran at the grizzly where he stood over the ruined stag body. He threw himself against the grizzly’s shoulder, clawing and biting with all he had. He knew he didn’t have much time before the grizzly killed him. He knew in the grand scheme of things, his few bite wounds wouldn’t do much to the grizzly compared to the stag’s injuries. But it felt amazing to hear the grizzly’s cry of surprised pain. 

In a swift decisive motion, the grizzly clamped his jaws around the fox’s chest and crushed. The fox felt his ribs give and his lungs pop as he hung in the grizzly’s mouth. He could feel blood rush through his throat and stomach. The grizzly dropped him and he hit the ground limply. The fox lay in the rush stained sweet grass as the grizzly made his way back into the trees to tend to his mortal wounds. The fox’s only solace as he lay in the grass, lungs burning and airways filling with blood, was that at least he was with the stag. 

Rain hit the earth as the two took their last breath.

When Ferrin opened his eyes it was to a world bathed in a golden glow. Tall grasses the color of amber bowed in a gentle wind as sunlight warmed his skin. He heard a rustling next to him. Rolling over in the soft grass he was met with the sight of a beautiful man. He had sun-kissed skin and eyes so blue it looked like the sky was trapped in them. His blond hair was the exact shade the stag’s fur had been. He watched as the man smiled at him, rolling on to his side and propping himself up on an arm. He knew, just as his name was Ferrin, that this man’s name was Jason. 

Jason cupped one of his cheeks in a large hand as he said, “You sacrificed yourself for me. Why didn’t you run?” 

Turning his face farther into the hand as he looked up into those blue, blue eyes, he whispered, “That’s something you do for someone you love.” He placed his own hand over Jason’s, absently noticing his skin was the color of copper. 

Bowing his head, Jason placed a kiss upon his brow before pulling back just enough so that he could gaze into his eyes. His dark brown hair shone with red highlights the same color as his fox fur in the sun. 

“I’m glad I can love you properly now.” Jason kissed Ferrin’s freckled cheek. “With every ounce of my being.” He kissed the other cheek. “The way you deserve.” He bent his head one last time as he placed a gentle, slow, loving kiss upon Ferrin’s mouth. 

A wild smile pulled at Ferrin’s lips as he wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. The whole of his body alit with a warm, pleasant glow and he had the fleeting thought that this must be what it felt like to love as a god would. 

The two laid in the tall, amber grass loving each other like gods witnessing the dawn of a new world. 


End file.
